Gordon Ramsay goes to City 17
by ApacheTheWriter
Summary: How would the events of Half Life 2 play out if a different Gordon stepped off the train?
1. Chapter 1: Pork Insertion

**CHAPTER 1: PORK INSERTION**

Chef Gordon Ramsay stepped off the train into City 17, Occupational capital of Earth and home to the Citadel, The combine's headquarters. As he got off the train, a man with brown hair, a beard, and a pair of glasses accidently bumped into him. Gordon picked up this man and flung him into an oncoming train. He probably wasn't even important.

"Hurry up, you fucking Donkey!" Shouted the chef to his bumbling cameraman, who stumbled off the train, struggling with the massive recording equipment. A city scanner noticed the new arrivals, and flew over to take their picture for the records. "FUCKING HELL! IF I WANTED MY PICTURE TAKEN I'D ASK, YOU FETID PEICE OF GOATSHIT!"

The scanner dejectedly flew away.

Gordon sighed and turned to the camera.

"Right! Here we are in City 17, the capital of the world! It's home to the citadel, and also has it's own special brand of- HOLD THE FUCKING CAMERA HIGHER YOU IDIOT! THEY WANT TO SEE MY FACE, NOT MY PENIS!"

"Sorry, Mr. Ramsay, It's just so heavy and-"

"SHUT THE FUCK UP, WANKER! ...Ahem. Right, well, we're gonna take a quick tour through the city and try out some of it's culinary wonders before we make our way to the citadel and have a wondrous dinner with Doctor Breen, and the Combine Earth Administration! Let's Be off!"

Chef Ramsay and his Cameraman strolled through the city streets. In front of them was a giant wooden building.  
"Right, the ration dispenser! Many of the citizens come here for their daily meal of Meat substitute, stale bread, and sludge water! Let's go inside!"

Inside the building, lines of downtrodden citizens waited in line for the automated dispenser to give out ration packets. Chef Ramsay got in line.

The automated Dispenser deposited a Ration packet, which Gordon picked up. "Right! What i've got here is a City 17 classic, We have some excellent rotten beans, a packet of brown mash which is meant to be Meat, and a most excellent can of DrBreens Private Reserve! My memory is Fuzzy already! Let's dig in!"

"THIS IS FUCKING RAW!"

Every head in the building turned towards the Chef as he strode towards the dispenser, red in the face.

"WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT HORSESHIT, YOU FUCKING PILLOCK! THE PACKET OF MEAT SUBSTITUTE WAS VOMIT INDUCING! IT WAS FUCKING RAW! Forget the rebels, YOU'RE The danger to City 17! I should call Civil protection on your dumb ass! Let's go around the establishment and see what the customers think, eh?"

The dispenser, being inanimate, simply spit out a ration packet at Gordon's feet.

Gordon kicked aside a table, sending several glasses flying. They smashed onto the ground. He grabbed a man by the throat. "What the fuck did you think of that shit, you fucking tosser?!"

The man choked out something about how the CPs would beat them for talking to each other, but Gordon had already flung the man into another table. He stormed out.

Gordon walked over to a Metrocop.

"Excuse me, officer, but it appears that the Rebels have sabotaged the Food dispenser! Instead of rations, it's now dispensing lies about the empire!"

Instantly, a warning Klaxon went off. Dropships appeared overhead, and overwatch soldiers rappelled down, surrounding the building. A Strider stomped onto the scene. A humming was heard and the light around the strider distorted as it charged it's warp cannon and fired, obliterating the building.

"Right, now that that's done, let's make our way to the citadel!"

Gordon walked briskly through the street, The smell of scorched wood and flesh still in the air. "Right, it looks like we'll have to make our way through this apartment complex to make it to the Citadel, but it will also be an excellent opportunity to experience some City 17 home cooking! Let's be off!"

Gordon walked through the trash- filled hallways of the Tenement, occasionally stepping over a shuddering body on the ground. "Right, let's take a look at what's cooking in this apartment!"

Without further pause Gordon kicked the door off it's hinges and strode into the filthy apartment, eliciting screams from it's residents. One man stood up from his chair. "Oh, man, You scared me! I thought you were Civil Pro-" No further words came from the man, as Gordon had knocked him out with a swift punch to the temple. The other residents screamed and fled, but Gordon grabbed a woman by the arm. "Hold on a minute, you fucking poodle! I'm filming a goddamn documentary here and You will cook me some fucking food, or I will slay you and everyone you know!" Terrified, the woman hobbled over to the Hotplate and broken refrigerator that passed for a kitchen and withdrew a small can of expired peas and a Can of DrBreens Private Reserve. "Please, sir, It's all I have!" Cried the woman.

With strength unbecoming of a celebrity chef, Gordon picked up the woman and hurled her through the third story window. "Piss off, you ugly pig!"

Gordon then diverted his attention to the can of beans. He shoved the entire can into his mouth and chewed, spitting out shards of aluminum in disgust. He leaned out the recently shattered window. "It's fucking RAW anyway!" The woman's body on the streets below had no response. "Right, enough with this bullshite, on to the citadel!"

Right as the chef was about to leave the apartment, 4 civil protection soldiers stormed in. "Civil Protection! Prepare to recieve judge- Wait a minute, no one's here. Except for that enraged British man."

Chef Ramsay's face grew dark, and a strange red aura surrounded him.

"I'm Scottish, you plonker."

With that, the chef let out a primal roar, and flung himself upon the CP. He tore apart the unfortunate cop with his bare hands.

BOOOO-BEEEP came the sound from the officer's uniform as it registered his death with the overwatch central control.

"RAW, RAW, RAW, RAW, RAWWW!" Screamed the chef as he ripped the cop's limbs off.

He looked up. The three remaining cops stood there looking at him blankly.

Gordon stood up and swiped the blood from the front of his apron. He cleared his throat.

"Roight.."

The CPs fired up their stun batons and drew 9mm pistols.

The cameraman shivered, specks of blood adorning his disheveled, anemic face. The chef strode through the halls with a newfound purpose, seemingly ignoring metro cops hiding behind closed doors, hoping that the enraged man wouldn't choose their door next. Eventually he reached the attic of the building.

"Fresh air. I need some after the RANCID FUCKING SHITE IN THERE" he howled over his shoulder.

As he stepped out onto the roof, a distant sound like propellers could be heard. Gordon strained his eyes against the light, but what he saw gave him newfound vigor. A combine gunship. The insectoid synth was on a routine patrol path, it's cybernetic compound eyes scanning the streets below for signs of dissent.

"Well, fuck me. It seems like we may have a decent meal yet. This is a hallmark of regional cuisine, the famous City 17 Escargot!"

With a sudden, impressive burst of strength, the Chef leaped hundreds of feet into the air, easily closing the gap between himself and the synth. With an enraged furor, Ramsay landed upon the synth, who's intelligence could not have prepared it for this. Ramsay began ripping through the gunship's chitin-like armor plates, wrestling the creature to the ground, and crashing directly into a house.

Ramsay immediately began ripping out chunks of the gunship's meat with great savagery, his insatiable hunger undeterred. As he severed a vein-like hose with his teeth, viscous biological hydraulic fluid began pouring out. With this, Ramsay quenched his thirst, and then shot into the sky once more, landing on the roof beside his befuddled cameraman, in a shower of shattered clay tiles.

As the pair walked on the roof, a Civil Protection APC pulled up on the street below, noticing that two humans were travelling on a non-designated area. Upon noticing the identity of the viscera-covered scotsman, they immediately ducked back inside the APC, the illusion of safety it provided was some comfort.

Gordon drove his wrinkled scottish skull through a dormer's pane of glass, and stepped inside. As he walked down the stairs within, they suddenly gave out, and the chef and his unfortunate accomplice plummeted to the floor below. As Ramsay got up without missing a beat, he hauled up his barely-conscious companion by his shirttails.

Walking out into the hall, Ramsay found himself suddenly surrounded by more pesky metrocops.

As the leader sparked his baton, he spoke in the distinctive vocoded voice that all cops possessed-

"Now, listen here you crazy Irish fucker. Not only did you rip one of my squads to pieces, but you also rampaged through a tenement building, and I was really looking forward to doing that myself. So now you will pay!"

A malicious grin appeared on Ramsay's face.

Right as the last cop took his dying breath, the door opened and a Young, Afro-Asian woman stepped in. She appeared very confident and collected. That is, until she stepped through the door and observed the scene within. Two men were there, and while both were covered in an inordinate amount of blood, it was very clear which of them was the cause of the dismemberment of the several men who she had followed into the building.

As she emptied the contents of her stomach onto the floor in sheer terror, Gordon strode up to her.

"Excuse me madam, but would you mind taking your BREASTS out of the doorway? How can I walk through it with those things flopping around there?"

Before the woman could react to the demon standing before her, she was batted out of the way in a rather merciful fashion.


	2. Chapter 2: A RAW Letter Day

**CHAPTER 2: A RAW LETTER DAY**

Gordon and his companion, who by this time was essentially immune to further psychological trauma, proceeded down a concrete hallway, before being confronted with a dead end.

"Bollocks, not again. We'll just have to….wait…."

Gordon paused as his highly attuned nose detected a scent. And without further pause, he drove his fist through the solid concrete, creating a person sized hole which he proceeded to walk through. He approached a vending machine in the next room, and ripped it from the wall. The hidden doorway he revealed was walked through, and within Gordon found himself in a sizeable laboratory.

The bald man within looked shocked to see him.

"Great Scott! Who are you, and why are you covered in such quantities of hemoglobin?"

Gordon payed him no mind, and walked across the room to another large door with a keypad, which he drove his fist into. The keypad ostensibly admitted him access to the room, where a high-tech, orange suit sat contained within a glass case. Gordon paid the suit, nor the case, no mind. He instead seized a small, head sized alien creature sitting above it. The creature struggled, but Gordon ended it's life by squeezing it within his large hands. He turned to the camera and enunciated clearly into it.

"Roight, now this is an unexpected surprise! The crab has long been a staple food in certain parts of the universe but today we are afforded the pleasure of trying one, fresh! Now, in order to properly prepare a crab, you must first shell it."

Gordon ripped the headcrab skin off in one fell swoop, and devoured the remaining mutilated carcass in one gulp.

He then walked directly through the wall, into the outside air once more, leaving a puddle of alien blood and the fainted body of whatever scientist that was behind.

As Ramsay walked through the solid brick wall, shattering it to bits which bounced harmlessly from his seemingly impervious skull, he gazed up at the citadel, the looming, blue alien structure which seemed to stretch for miles up into the heavens, in stark contrast to it's dilapidated surroundings. Power cables, each of them meters thick, stretched down to substations throughout the city, deriving power from the citadel's alien dark matter reactors.

Within the highest floor of this building sat one Wallace Breen, and at present he was engaged in a perplexing discussion with a masked humanoid figure on the other end of a video-conference. This figure was the commander of the local Overwatch garrison, a synth Trans-Human force composed of augmented "volunteers." And this commander was informing the supreme commander of Earth, for of course it was Breen, about the anomaly which had taken place in the city only minutes before.

"Affirmative. Subject not contained. Multiple containment squads and Airwatch unit

de-serviced. " came the report.

This meant very little to Breen. The Civil Protection force comprised the most amoral amongst the population and he cared little for their survival. But something else in the report had troubled him, deeply.

"And the target destination?"

"Guardian One reports target destination as the Citadel."

This would not do. Breen had seen the superhuman feats that this man, if that was what it was, was capable of. To say nothing of the savage dismemberment of several of his squads, or the fact that he had seemingly _flown_ to take down a gunship with his bare hands. No, he thought with a shiver. He must not be allowed to make it here, no matter the cost.

"Analyze target patterns to compute possible objective." ordered Breen.

"Affirmative. Recalling Guardian observation system transcripts and analyzing subject movement patterns."

Breen clacked his fingers against the surface of his ornate walnut desk as he waited for the report. Such anomalies were not uncommon in this new world. After living through not only the incident at Black Mesa, but also the subsequent portal storms and several face-to-face encounters with the new alien occupiers, anything seemed possible. But what could motivate this man? Did he wish to kill Breen and depose the already unstable government? Destroy the citadel?

Breens thoughts were interrupted.

"Analyzation of target vectors indicate that target prioritization is acquisition of acceptable sustenance."

" _Food?!"_ Came Breen's incredulous answer.

"Affirmative. Recalling Guardian system playback…"

A shot of the Man and his skinny accomplice at the main train station appeared. The Guardian surveillance system used an advanced lip-reading algorithm to simulate spoken words. And the words that appeared as the blonde scotsman spoke were:

"We're gonna take a quick tour through the city and try out some of it's culinary wonders before we make our way to the citadel and have a wondrous dinner with Doctor Breen, and the Combine Earth Administration!"

Breen's face paled. He had seen the horrors this man was capable of committing in the pursuit of _food._ He certainly did not want to be in the presence of this man. But an idea crossed his mind. He had been monitoring a rebel cell in the local canal system for some while now. Perhaps, he could kill two birds with one stone….


	3. Chapter 3: Roast Canal

**CHAPTER 3: ROAST CANAL**

Ramsay made his way through an old rail yard, lifting train cars and hurling them clear over the horizon whenever they stood in his path. He was beginning to hunger again, and this time, he thought, he may not be so understanding of failure.

As these thoughts ran through his mind, a low, warbling hum came into auditory range. The distinctive fusion engines of a combine dropship. Ramsay briefly considered eating it, but thought better of it.

"Bollocks, I've already eaten crustacean today! But, what is…..?"

As the dropship came into view, Ramsay noticed that it was holding a troop deployment module, and tbe door was opening. And as it did, white particles began falling to the ground.

Ramsay's highly attuned nose picked up on the identity of this new thing immediately, and his eyes took on an ethereal glow.

"Risotto! The perfect mid-day meal!"

Ramsay began sprinting towards the fallen risotto, dragging his cameraman by the arm. The cameraman cried out in pain as his arm was dislocated, and his legs lifted off the ground, such was the speed of Ramsay's travel.

As they reached a ledge leading into a canal, filled with disgusting water, Ramsay did not hesitate to dive in. When he got there, however, he found that the Risotto had already disintegrated in the acidic water.

Ramsay's childish glee disappeared and became slowly replaced with a rage the likes of which not seen before on this earth. But before he could act on the dark thoughts brewing within him, a voice penetrated his ghastly intonations.

"Hey down there! You better keep moving, the CP's are sweeping through this area!"

Gordon snapped his head towards the offending person with sickening speed.

"Sod off, you pillock!"

The rebel was taken aback at this insult, but the red glow coming from the eyes of the white-shirted man below him indicated that it would be best to leave, post-haste.

Gordon, without a word or any indication of effort, rose to the surface of the water and began walking across it, forcing his cameraman to laboriously swim after him.

After several more rage-filled rants, the duo reached an area of the canal system that was dried up. Trash and abandoned cars filled the channel, and Gordon prepared to annihilate all obstacles in one fell swoop when his attuned senses alerted him, once again, to the presence of food nearby.

Ramsay took flight and sighted on a nearby boxcar. He dove towards it and violently crashed through the solid steel.

Inside, two residents sat with mouth-parts agape, for indeed one human and one Vortigaunt were within.

The man broke the silence.

"How did you… well, um, my name's Joe, and this is my Vortigaunt friend, we're here to.."

Joe was cut off as ramsay strode by him without a word or passing glance, and siezed the vortigaunt by the neck, squeezing his big meaty scottish hands as the Vortigaunt struggled for breath. In some last-ditch defense effort, the alien called upon the Vortessence, sending lethal green electricity crackling into Ramsay's body. This, however, did nothing to deter him. As the Vort sank to the ground, dead, Ramsay turned to Joe.

"Roight, you, sir, get to witness first-hand an incredibly rare cooking technique. Watch closely!"

Ramsay produced two chef's knives from thin air, and began scraping them against each other to sharpen them. He then plunged one of them into the Vort's eye socket, prying out it's large, ruby-red eye. He took the eye, impaled it on the knife, and then shot two red lasers from his own eyes, effectively searing what could only be a rare delicacy in Ramsay's mind. He took a nibble and stumbled backwards, as if overcome with elation at his creation.

"That, is absolutely stunning, and a great mid-day meal for any occasion. Try it!"

He held out his hand, and as if grabbed by an invisible force, Joe, who had been presently attempting to escape the boxcar, flew into Ramsay's grasp. He shoved the remainder of the eye directly down Joe's throat, and then dropped him into a pile on the floor, choking and sobbing in the fetal position.

"Roight, now, off we go once more!"

Ramsay moved his hands in a parting motion and the other wall of the boxcar opened up as if rend with a godlike sword. He strolled briskly through it, his cameraman in hot pursuit despite his injuries and malnourishment.

Before them lay a continuation of the canal's strewn debris. Ramsay resolved to clear the way.

"Roight, Shoop-da-woop!"

Ramsay opened his mouth and at once a beam of pure blue energy shot out with such brilliance that it would have blinded any who looked directly at it. The entire width of the canal as well as it's contents were vaporized in an instant, and with it, unbeknownst to Ramsay, was Rebel Station 8.

As Ramsay walked down the new passageway, whistling, he did not see the Combine city scanner floating hundreds of feet above, it's high-resolution cameras watching him intently. And observing the feed from his penthouse office, was Breen.

Breen watched this man with interest. A creepy grin stretched across his face. The power wielded by this superhuman, now that he knew how to control it, could be absolute. And as long as he held the reigns, the possibilities were endless for him. He could crush the resistance singlehandedly. And, he thought with a chuckle, he could even crush the Combine. The Universal Union could be his, alone. He could rule everything. He just had to figure out how to keep Gordon Ramsay fed.


End file.
